


Keeping Trust

by samalander



Series: Trust 'Verse [3]
Category: Star Trek XI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-18
Updated: 2009-06-18
Packaged: 2017-10-22 12:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samalander/pseuds/samalander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/3656.html?thread=8044104#t8044104">this</a> prompt on the kinkmeme: <i>Turns out Sulu knows Chekov from back at the Academy. Mainly because he was friends with a bunch of guys who used to tease/harass Chekov relentlessly.</i></p>
<p><i>Even though he didn't take part, he did stand by and let it happen.</i><br/>Now they've both been assigned to the Enterprise, Sulu finds himself falling for Chekov and wants to prove he's changed!</p>
<p>
  <i>He starts following Chekov, trying to talk to him and apologize, but Chekov thinks he's going to be harassed all over again and avoids him, runs away to hide with McCoy, etc.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping Trust

It had been a year since the distress call on Vulcan. A year since Nero almost wiped out the Federation. A year since almost all their classmates were left as nothing but debris around a singularity.

The _Enterprise_ was back on earth, a brief respite from the five year mission, and Kirk asked the entire crew to attend the memorial with him. It wasn't mandatory, of course, and some chose not to. Spock, for one, spent the day fasting and meditating, as Vulcans did, to observe the date of death of a parent.

But Sulu went and Chekov went and McCoy went and almost everyone else went. Sulu and Chekov sat next to each other, with the rest of the crew, near the front. No one seemed to want to forget, even on a day of mourning, that these were the people who had stopped the massacre. These were the people who found a way to defend Earth.

Someone had the stupid idea of asking Kirk to give a speech.

To be fair, it was a great speech. Kirk talked about the Kelvin, the years between, the day itself. He was open and honest and there were many people who thought that McCoy must have written it. There were recordings made of the event, of course, but all Sulu remembered afterward was how the captain's voice broke when he mentioned his father, and how Chekov dissolved into helpless little sobs when the _Farragut_ was mentioned.

It was the first time Sulu ever acted on the urge to hug Chekov. He had experienced it many times; it seemed like everything the navigator did was so fucking cute sometimes that the only thing one could do was hold him tightly.

Chekov leaned into the embrace, his fists balling up the shirt of Hikaru's dress uniform. He was crying for the Orion girl, Sulu knew. The one he had rushed to defend three years ago.

Sulu made what he hoped was a comforting noise and gently pet the top of Chekov's head, biting his lip to keep his own tears at bay.

* * *

Most of the crew returned to the ship directly after the ceremony. No one felt up to being patted on the back. Least of all Sulu. He sat despondently in his cabin, his fingers playing over the imaginary console in front of him. _Check core status._ Two taps of his left index finger. _Engage secondary altitude thrusters._ A slide with his right hand, the gentle play of tapping in his access code with his left. _Disengage external inertial dampener_ Again, the light play of fingers, which would remind someone, if they had been watching, or a pianist. _Punch it._ He gripped his imaginary throttle and eased it forward. It was so easy. That was all it took, and they'd have been the same debris as the others.

He was about to cry, about to commence feeling just utterly terrible for himself, when his door buzzed.

He stood to open it, and was surprised – pleasantly so – to see Pavel Chekov standing on the other side, holding a picture frame.

Sulu moved aside, and the younger man entered, pressing the photograph into Sulu's hands.

"Do you remember her?"

Sulu glanced at the picture. It was Chekov, smiling and laughing with the Orion girl.

"I do. I never really knew her, but everyone knew who she was."

Chekov nodded. "Her name was Gaila. She was my best friend. She was on the _Farragut_."

"I'm sorry, Pavel. My roommate, Thomas, was on the _Hood_."

Chekov's eyes were wide – well, wider than usual – and he regarded Sulu carefully. "You called me Pavel. You never call me Pavel."

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't be sorry! I am glad! It has taken you a year to admit I have a first name!"

Sulu, in spite of the solemnity of the situation, was moved to laugh. He enjoyed the feeling of the other man's name on his tongue, heavy and sweet.

"Do you ever think, Pavel, how easily we could have been on the _Hood_ or the _Farragut_ or the _Wallcott_?"

"No. I think about how you saved us, though."

Sulu was taken aback by such an admission. "You mean how I messed up, got corrected and wanted to fall into a hole and die? Besides, if Nero hadn't had a hard-on for making Spock cry, he'd just have blown us up anyway."

Now it was Chekov's turn to laugh. Hikaru wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch the little wrinkles that collected at the sides of Pavel's eyes. They were both too old for their age, too heavy with the guilt that they survived.

"Tell me about Gaila," Sulu said, taking a seat on his bed. "She looks like she was a lot of fun."

They passed the evening in reverie, remembering that time that Gaila insisted they go to Alcatraz, or the time Thomas and Hikaru made armor out of pillows and played "uncle" with heavy text books. They laughed and they cried and sometime around 0400, they fell asleep on Sulu's bed, smiles on both their faces.

* * *

It became a bit of a ritual, the two men talking about home. Sulu liked to talk about his sisters, his fencing classes, growing up in San Francisco. Chekov would talk about his mother's cooking, running along the Neva at dawn, the classes he took and books he read before he should have understood them.

"You don't talk about your friends in Russia," Sulu observed one night, lying with his head hanging off the foot of Chekov's bed.

"What friends?"

"Surely you had friends, Pavel!"

"Nyet. Think: You are a eight-year-old freshman in high school, taking organic chemistry at night. Who will talk to you?"

Sulu smiled ruefully. "I guess. I wish I knew you then."

"You would not have liked me. I believe I was very annoying."

Sulu sat up and swung his legs around, sitting perched on the edge of the bed, gazing at Chekov. "So, no girlfriends, then?"

Pavel laughed, the throaty laugh he used when he thought someone was being very, very stupid. "Oh yes, I used to take my teddy bear on double dates."

Sulu blushed as Chekov met his gaze.

"Besides, who says I like girls?"

The words hung in the air, heavy between them for a moment. Finally Pavel broke the silence.

"Hikaru, are you actually surprised?"

"I—Um—Yes? I never expect anyone else to—I mean—"

Chekov gave him a look, one to match his laugh. "Be like you?" At Sulu's surprised look, Chekov positively giggled. "Come now! You did not think you were subtle, did you?"

Sulu was pretty sure that even his hair was blushing. "I guess I did."

"I have one question for you, Hikaru."

"Okay?"

"Why have you never tried to kiss me?"

It was the last thing Sulu had expected to be asked. He was pretty sure that he had slipped into a coma and was just having some kind of dream, some kind of delightful hallucination. He could barely believe that the younger man had moved to sit next to him on the bed, taking Hikaru's large, rough hand in his smaller one."

"I never thought you would want me to."

Pavel just shook his head. "I wasn't even _trying_ to be subtle."

Hikaru shrugged. "I hear subtlety was invented by a little old man in Minsk."

"Close. Kirovsk."

Sulu started to laugh again, but before he could get much of a giggle out, he felt the press of lips against his own – soft and sweet and all the things he had imagined kissing Pavel would be like. The younger man was straddling his legs, hands on the back of his head, tongue exploring his mouth. Sulu wrapped his arms around Chekov and held him tightly. Finally, after what could have been minutes, years or lifetimes, they broke apart and Sulu was again fixed with those piercing green eyes.

"All things considered," Pavel whispered, sparing a kiss for the lips he had dreamt about so often, "This was worth the broken nose."


End file.
